


Ten, Jack, Queen, King

by TozaBoma



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural, Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TozaBoma/pseuds/TozaBoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean need to take care of a werewolf. Trouble is, there are these two nutters barging in who think it's a lupovariform. Black Impalas, white moons, blue boxes, red herrings - will the weirdness never end? Rated 'teen' for a few naughty words and a fight or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Sam lifted the shotgun, staring down the sights as he shuffled along the corridor. He paused at the heavy wooden door to risk a look to his right. He checked to see if his older brother was similarly parked. Needless to say, Dean was. His favourite nickel plated Colt handgun in his left hand, Dean's right stretched out towards the handle of the door. Sam shuffled closer, shotgun up along his eyeline, his finger taking up the pressure on the trigger.

Dean began to turn the door handle. Something arrested Sam's attention. His eyes shots to the floorboards and the curious blue light pulsing from underneath the closed door. He put his right hand out, grasping the jacket over Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at him quickly before letting go of the handle. Both brothers Winchester turned to look at the ex-tree of an obstruction as a strange _vworp vworp_ sound began to flood the corridor. The light that sent blue and green tendrils across the floor by their boots faded, as did the noise. As if rehearsed, both boys looked first at the door and then at each other in trepidation.

Sam nodded. Dean's hand went back to the door handle. He turned it as quietly as he could, which, due to his years of sneaking in and out of places he should not have been - even counting places that did not include midnight trysts - meant that this happened nearly silently. He was about to push the door open when it was sucked in from the other side.

Both brothers took hasty steps back. Sam brought the shotgun to bear. Dean lifted his handgun, hissing at his younger brother from the side of his mouth. "If this is the werewolf, shoot it - and I don't care if it's right in the face!"

But the head that appeared around the side of the door was anything but feral. The brown mass of hair that rather looked like it was trying to describe an explosion in a pipe cleaner factory topped off a thin, omnipotent face that housed a pair of large brown eyes. They ran up and down the two Winchesters in voracious curiosity, the accompanying eyebrows squeezed together in some kind of sympathy for the amount of work the brain must have been going through.

"This isn't Cardiff," the tall, thin man before the two brothers stated in a voice that suggested this fact was either cosmically unjust or just extremely rude. He took a step to his right, pulling the door further open to aid his inspection of the two men. It revealed a dark brown, rather dapper suit, with faint blue impossibly narrow stripes that reached all the way down to a pair of battered white Converse. The man's hands sailed into his trouser pockets in apparent consternation as he found the face of first Sam and then Dean. "No," he said thoughtfully. "Definitely not Cardiff. For one thing, they don't point weapons at people for simply opening a door."

Sam took his finger from the trigger hastily, letting the shotgun drop to his side. He put his right hand up in surrender. "Sorry!" he blurted. "We didn't mean to scare you. We were looking for someone else."

The man in the brown suit simply stared at him, and Sam suddenly had a very bad feeling that whoever this man was, he was capable of raking over his very soul and extracting his true intentions from it with nothing more than a wrinkle of his eyebrow. Sam's own brows realised, for the first time, that they were spectacularly outclassed. Not only were the man's eyebrows scarier than his in their ability to wring emotions from anyone they challenged, but they also guarded huge brown pools of never-ending wisdom and urgency, which abruptly went from Sam to Dean.

Dean stared back at the man, a look of affront and indignation more than enough to bolster the elder Winchester's sense of security. "What are you doing in here anyway?" he demanded. "This building is supposed to be empty."

"Which begs the question, what are you doing in here?" the man asked politely. His rather stern expression began to slide sideways, as if the world had suddenly tilted to exert the force of gravity inversely. Sam and Dean watched as his face morphed into a sly smile, managing to make them believe very firmly that he knew a vast array of things that they did not. "Judging by those big guns you have, and the mud on your boots, I'd say you've been tracking some kind of animal," he added.

"Sir, you really shouldn't be in here," said Sam. "We are tracking an animal, and it's somewhere in this building. Now what you need to do is leave so we can get on and find it."

"So who are you two then, hmm? The police?" the man asked, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth by virtue of his teeth, as he looked from one to the other in complete innocence.

Dean put his hand into his jacket, withdrawing the black foldover wallet. He flicked it open to brandish the badge inside. "Department of Fish and Wildlife," he said confidently. "We'll have this animal bagged and tagged if you'll just get out of our way, sir."

The man rocked on his heels, grinning from ear to ear as he bounced slightly. "Oh! You two are American! How quaint!" he cried, in a way that explained to both US citizens just how excited the man appeared to be. "So this is America? Home of apple pie, green money, hot dogs, very large cars and pink oranges? Always liked pink oranges, me. Much more fun than orange oranges."

The two brothers shared a glance that communicated how surprised and wary they were of this newcomer's ability to gabble. Dean looked back at him. "Yeah," he said slowly, "this is America. Manchester, New York, same as the street outside."

The man bounced on his toes again even more ebulliently than before. "Manchester!" he gushed. "Another one of those places that you immigrants named after the places you left!"

"Excuse me?" Dean demanded with outrage.

"Oh you know, when all those free-range-loving white people left England to steal land from the locals out here in the big ol' wild frontier," the man said with a knowing grin.

Dean's eyebrows, never ones to let a good fight go, gathered together in anger. "Look, pal-"

The man whipped his left hand out of his pocket in surrender. "That's okay, that's not my department," he said quickly, drowning Dean out. "And anyway, you're not the first people to have done it. You should see the beaches on Meta Sigma Folia. Funny thing is, all of them are named after the places people couldn't wait to get away from on Meta Sigma Prime. So you see, humans are humans all over the known universe."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder and pulled him back slightly. "I think we should just move on," he said slowly, gesturing to the man with his eyes.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I don't think this guy's boat's got all its paddles in the water."

"No, actually she hasn't. I need to pick up a few things to repair - oh, okay, let's be honest - cobble together a few engine parts, and then I can be out of here," the man interrupted.

Sam put his hand up again in a gesture that made the man stop talking. "That's great, sir. Now we are going to have to ask you to leave the building while we find this animal."

"You two aren't from Fish and Wildlife," the man scoffed, making the two Winchesters pin him with almost identical looks of annoyance. "See? Now why don't you two run along and find this little lost kitten, or whatever it is you're looking for, and I'll go my own way to find my engine parts."

"You don't understand, Stan Laurel," Dean accused rather shortly. "This animal is dangerous and we're here to shoot it. Now you need to get out of this building-"

"Did someone say there's going to be shooting?" came a new voice - this one definitely American.

The strange man in the doorway turned to his right to look over his shoulder. "Oh don't get excited Jack," he sighed dismissively. "These two over-armed gentlemen think they've lost a kitten."

"A kitten?" came the voice, before a new head, this one with rakish dark brown hair almost obscuring one eye, appeared over the man's right shoulder. "Oh, hello _boys_!" the face grinned enthusiastically.

"Jack," the tall man admonished, and the two brothers had the distinct feeling he had said that in exactly that tone of voice many times before.

Dean opened his mouth, ready to inject some of his typical brand of gruff outrage into the situation. But before he could get the word out, a strange low growling noise snatched everybody's attention very neatly. The tall man and the newcomer, apparently called Jack, stared straight ahead, their eyes going very round and very large. Sam and Dean looked at them rather than turn around.

"It's behind us, isn't it?" Dean havered.

"If you mean the really big shaggy lupovariform that looks really pissed, then I think you're right!" Jack blurted.

"Blimey!" the taller man cried, but when Sam looked at him he realised he was grinning even more widely than before - if such a thing were possible. "She's a real beauty!" the man gasped.

"Sam!" Dean ordered, and they spun on the spot, weapons ready.

"I think," the man said suddenly, "under the circumstances, we should all just run."

"I think you and your screwy friend should get back behind that door so we can shoot the friggin' thing," Dean bit out.

"You know what, Doctor?" Jack said quickly. "I think this guy's right."

Sam and Dean lifted their guns. The werewolf began to bound toward them.

"Wait!" the man shouted suddenly. His hands clamped on both shoulders of the two boys. They found themselves dragged backwards and it was all they could do to stagger and keep their balance as they were hauled inside the door. It slammed in front of their faces, barely half a second before the wild animal on the other side pounded into it in fury.

Dean turned and pushed the man off him roughly. "What the Hell do you think you're doing, man!" he raged. "Two more seconds and we would have shot the bitch!"

"You might have," the man accused, and now his face was a picture of something that represented the kind of warning Dean had only seen before in Hell, on the faces of souls railing against the unfairness of this situation. "But what about the other one?"

A huge bang walloped into the door before it all went quiet.

"What other one?" Sam demanded quickly. "We tracked a single werewolf to this place - there _is_ no other one."

The man took a step back, looking Sam up and down as if he expected him to produce a leaflet of instructions on how to operate him. The man he had called Jack folded his arms over a blue shirt slowly, as he also appraised the two Winchesters.

"You tracked a single lupovariform to this building," the man in the brown suit said, "and yet you never thought to ask why she was coming here?"

"Because this is her lair?" Dean put in sarcastically.

"Because she knows another lupovariform lives here," the man said simply. He looked over his shoulder at the man called Jack. "For a pair of werewolf hunters, they're not particularly bright, are they?"

"Well if you're so friggin' smart," Dean said sweetly, "why don't you tell us where this other werewolf is?"

The man sniffed to himself, as if it were all beneath him. He lifted his right hand and it went into the deep recesses of his brown suit jacket. He fished around for some moments before producing a long slender silver item with a curious blue end. He pressed a button and a strange noise came from the item, as well as a rather soothing blue light.

He flicked the tool off again with a whimsical smile. "It is approximately ninety feet north-west and about forty-five degrees down." He shoved the item back in his inside pocket. "Which probably means it's on the floor beneath us in the far corner room."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Just looked.

"Would you like some help locating that room?" Jack asked with a sly grin. "I could help you two with that."

"Jack," the man chided again.

Sam put his hand up in a halting gesture. "Let's just back up here," he said slowly. "You two call that werewolf a lupovariform, and you don't seem the least bit worried about it nearly getting in this room." He took a deep breath. "Are you two hunters or something? Who are you?"

The man rocked on his heels, looking at his feet for a moment before he let his eyes wander back up over the faces of the two men watching him with complete and utter mystification.

"This is Captain Jack Harkness," he said cheerfully. "He's currently taking a little holiday away from Torchwood - don't ask. I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" Sam asked, before sharing a curious look with his brother.

"Doctor who?" they both chorused.

Jack chuckled to himself rather wickedly. "I love it when people do that," he grinned.

.

.


	2. Two

.

Dean moved back to the door and put his ear against it. "Well I think she's gone," he observed.

"How did you know there'd be another werewolf?" Sam asked the man in the brown suit.

"Stood to reason," the Doctor shrugged. "Real question is, can we get down to that room and get a look at the other one?"

"I'll get my coat," Jack said, disappearing from behind him. "And my gun!" he added from far away.

"I think it's best if you two stay here and we go find these things," Sam said carefully. "This is going to be dangerous, and you two don't exactly seem like the hunting type."

"Don't let the Converse fool you," the Doctor said politely, but something in his gaze made Sam want to square his shoulders. "Besides, there are two of them and now four of us." He looked back over his shoulder to a large blue door. "Jaaaack! Get a shift on!"

Jack Harkness' head appeared round the blue door and he jumped out again, pushing the door closed gently and shrugging his long blue coat on.

"Ready?" the Doctor asked.

"Always," Jack winked, and the Doctor managed to stop himself rolling his eyes before he looked back at the two hunters. "Shall we?"

"I think these two gentlemen would like to go first," the Doctor said with a wide, cheerful smile that made Dean teeter on the edge of dismissing him as daft and not trusting him stood behind him in case he had weapons.

"Sam," Dean said, with equal cheer, "you go first. I'll take up the rear."

"Suits me," Jack said, earning him another warning look from the Doctor. "What?" he protested in innocence.

Dean shook his head, deciding he really didn't want to know, and waited for Sam to open the door. The tallest man in the room did just that, sticking his head out, his shotgun ready but dangling by his side. He waited.

"She's gone alright," he breathed. "Stairs and down? Far room?"

"Go," Dean urged.

Sam ducked out of the room and the Doctor took a hand from his pocket to put it behind him, finding Jack's coat and nudging him in front. Jack followed, his hand already on his service revolver in its hip holster, as the Doctor went after them jauntily. Dean looked around the room, looked up at the tall blue police box, and then decided he'd rather concentrate on werewolves for the moment. He gripped his shotgun and followed, closing the door behind him.

"So how long have you two been blundering about, attacking lupovariforms?" the Doctor asked brightly.

"We don't blunder about," Dean grumbled. "And it's been a while."

"Hmm. Shame, don't you think? I mean, they're pretty good at fitting in."

"Until they attack some poor bastard and leave him to die an agonising death while they chow down on his heart, yeah," Dean said with false cheer.

"Point taken," the Doctor sighed. "If only they could eat something else, then they wouldn't be a menace to society."

"Yeah, right," Dean said sarcastically. "We could get them all on no-carb diets. It'd change the underworld as we know it."

"I saw a weevil on a no-carb diet once. Worst mistake we ever made," Jack shivered.

"Oooh," the Doctor agreed, sounding extremely creeped out. "Don't go _there_. And while we're at it, have you seen my retro-active wave analyser?"

"Uh, sorry, no idea what you're talking about," Jack said quickly.

"I'll bet," the Doctor judged, his face anything but accepting. "So do you brothers have names?" he asked more loudly.

"They're brothers?" Jack asked innocently.

"Same eyes, same hereditary chin," the Doctor shrugged. "I'll bet you a new quantum field destabiliser generator they're related."

"Actually yeah, we're brothers," Dean admitted.

"Damn! Now I need to find a quantum field destabiliser generator," Jack tutted to himself. "Think I know where I can lay my hands on one."

"That's Sam," Dean said from behind the Doctor. "I'm Dean."

"Sam and Dean," Jack confirmed. "Nice."

"Where did you two come in from?" Dean asked. "Where are you from in the States, Jack?"

"Oh, uhm… Kinda… here and there," Jack said airily. "Been away a long time."

"Right," Dean said scathingly. "What are you, a secret agent or something?"

"Something," the Doctor said loudly. "Definitely a something. An impossible something."

"Thanks," Jack said brightly, amused.

"And you, Doctor No-Name," Dean said. "You sound like one of the Monty Python crew. You British?"

"Something like that," the Doctor grinned.

"What are you doing here, sightseeing?" Dean pressed.

"Again, something like that," he said. "Actually, we were looking for Eridani B. Jack here's never been and they have the most amazing sunsets. Plus the drinks. Oh, and the staff do this amazing dance routine when the floor show opens - it's incredible."

"Right," Dean managed, lost.

"Oh and the _lights_!" the Doctor crowed. "You should _see_ the stars fall out of the sky toward dawn - it's the most fantastic thing I've seen in ages, and that's a long time, let me tell you. I mean, I thought the whole starfield thing on Trelani Prime was exceptional," he gushed, "but then I saw Eridani B and it just made me realise that I keep letting myself be impressed by these things when I know - and I mean, I'm pretty old, I should just _know_ \- that there's a million other things just around the corner waiting for me to see. After all this time, I still forget that there's always more!"

Sam held a hand up suddenly. "Ssshhh!" he urged.

"Did he just shush me?" the Doctor asked, outraged.

"Yeah, Doctor, he did," Jack grinned.

"Of all the-"

"Sshh!" Sam ordered, this time looking over his shoulder. "Something's moving down there."

The four of them edged up to the top of the wooden stairs, looking down. Heads appeared over shoulders, weapons clinked and coats obscured. Dean suddenly looked from left to right at the rag-tag group.

"What is this, Scooby Doo?" he tutted. "Personal space, fellas."

Jack and the Doctor made an effort to spread out slightly, as Sam searched the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.

"What, Sam?" Dean prompted.

"Something's moving. I can't see anything though."

"Is this an Evil Dead fruit cellar moment? Cos I'm all out of axes," Dean muttered, pre-occupied.

The Doctor reached inside his jacket suddenly, producing a small slim cylinder. He pushed a button on the side and a blue glow lit the entire staircase. A shadow, a movement - a growl and a rush of air.

"She's gone," the Doctor said confidently. "She's moving…" He brought the blue lighted end of the small instrument up to his face. "Left… slowly. She's not exactly making a getaway, is she?" he mumbled to himself.

"What the Hell is that?" Dean breathed, trying to be quiet.

"A sonic screwdriver. Very useful, in the right hands."

"Maybe she's not trying to escape," Jack said slowly.

"Maybe she's trying to get us to follow her," Sam agreed.

"So it's a trap," Dean said flatly. He pumped the shotgun full. "Bring it on."

"Oh, I like him," Jack said with a wide smile. "Suddenly I'm getting rebuilding my office thoughts in my head."

"Jack," the Doctor warned. "Concentrate. On the lupovariforms."

"I am," he protested innocently. "And other things. But mostly the lupovariforms."

"Dean," Sam said quickly. "I'll go down first. Keep an eye on these two."

"Like Hell," Dean grumped, pushing his way through. "You two visitors stay here. Sightseeing trips to the States ain't supposed to come with werewolf rippage."

"Absolutely," the Doctor nodded faithfully, letting him brush past him. Dean was already on the top step and heading down, Sam next to him, both their shotguns up and ready.

Jack looked at the Doctor. The Doctor stared back at him. They counted to ten. Then they followed.

Sam heard the top stair creak and looked back. "You two stay _here_ ," he said clearly.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Jack grinned.

"You could die," Dean pointed out.

Jack looked at the Doctor, barely able to restrain a chuckle. "You hear that? I could die."

"You could," the Doctor shrugged.

"So could you," Jack grinned.

"I could," he nodded.

"We could both die," Jack chuckled.

"Nah - we don't die. We just… cheat," he replied.

"This ain't funny," Dean snapped curtly. "You two nutjobs stay behind us."

Jack opened his mouth but the Doctor put his finger up quickly, making him halt whatever smutty remark was about to leave his mouth. Instead Jack nodded, turning to watch the two Winchesters head further into the darkness.

The four of them edged down the stairs until Sam found the bottom. He shifted left, his shotgun still up and aimed in front of him, his finger resting on the trigger. Dean appeared on his left, his gun similarly ready.

Jack lifted his service revolver, keeping a safe distance behind them. The Doctor simply plopped off the bottom step, his hands in his pockets, ambling along behind them.

Jack sniffed suddenly. "Fellas?" he called hoarsely, trying to keep the volume down. "Can you smell something?"

Sam and Dean paused, and then Sam realised Dean was appraising him pointedly. "Don't look at me," Sam protested.

"Smells like… what's that stuff you put on a burn from a Mekatian pond lizard?" Jack asked quickly.

"Kreeyassitate," the Doctor supplied. He sniffed, then shook his head. "I don't think it's kreeyassitate."

"Then what?" Jack asked.

"Smells like blood mixed with iron filings to me," Dean grunted.

The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "That's what it is - it's haemocite," he nodded.

"Hee-mo-whaty?" Dean blurted.

"Isn't it?" the Doctor asked Jack.

"Could be," he allowed.

"Woah - what's haemocite?" Sam interrupted.

"It's metallic crystals made of blood and plasma," Jack put in. "Although I've never seen any on Earth. Have you?" he asked the Doctor.

"Not recently," he admitted thoughtfully, pulling at an ear absently. "About 53 AD maybe, but certainly not after that."

Dean looked at Sam. "Well while these two are having fun falling out of their cuckoo's nest, let's go get this done," he asserted, turning back to the dark room and the path they had started down. Sam fell into step behind him.

Jack hung back, pulling at the Doctor's elbow. "These two have no idea what that thing is," he hissed. "We should stop them."

"Lecturing me on morals, Jack? There's a first," the Doctor said dryly. "What really happened before Torchwood went down?"

Jack just looked at him. "Let's go," he said firmly. The Doctor watched him walk on, then turned to follow silently.

Sam hissed from in front. "Door," he whispered.

Dean hurried up and tried the handle. "Ready?"

"Go," Sam nodded.

Dean turned the handle and pushed on it. The wooden entrance swung wide. Both Winchesters raised their guns at the two werewolves in the middle of the tiny room.

"This is over," Dean grunted.

"No! Stop!" the Doctor cried.

Without thinking, Jack sprang forward. The Doctor leapt too. Jack pushed into Sam's back, knocking his aim toward the ceiling. Sam's shot went safely over the werewolves' heads. The Doctor snatched at the barrel of Dean's gun, wrenching his shot into the wall harmlessly.

Dean shook him off angrily. "What the Hell?" he demanded, elbowing the slight man back out of his way.

"Don't!" the Doctor repeated.

Sam struggled with Jack. The Doctor slipped through and stood dead in front of them, his arms wide to cover their aim on the creatures within.

"Move!" Dean warned.

"No," the Doctor countered. His large brown eyes bored into the younger man and Dean fought off the creeping fear caused by the endless stare. "Look at them."

Dean glared his own particular brand of a promise of messy death before edging to one side to see. He was still trying to drag his warning stare from the Doctor as Sam grabbed his shoulder.

"Dean," he breathed, sounding at a complete loss. "Look."

.


	3. Three

.

.

Dean managed to make his eyes let go of the Doctor's and instead he looked round his shoulder. His face hesitated before folding itself into a patent look of confusion.

The Doctor eyed Dean's little triangular eyebrows and small round 'o' for a mouth and took a step back, content that the considerably younger man was not about to take another shot at the two werewolves. He gave Dean one last steadying look before whipping round to see the two creatures in the middle of the room.

"There, now," he said grandly, putting his hands up to show they were empty. "What could you two be doing in this poky little room, eh?"

One creature, the familiar female, stared back at him, disquieted by the non-human scent flowing off him and bleeding across the room, unsettling already jarred supernatural nerves.

"What's that?" Sam asked innocently, his head gesturing to the small circle around them.

Small lumps of blue-green crystal were arranged, almost haphazardly, around the pair. While the female was crouched, ready to spring at the first human - or indeed, non-human - that moved, the other werewolf lay prone on its back, clearly unable to raise the energy.

"Are we talking the guy flat on his back or the Kryptonite rockery they got going on?" Dean asked, puzzled. "Is the guy dead?"

The Doctor's gaze flicked to them both before tripping over Jack across the room. "No, he's not dead," the tall Gallifreyan observed. "But he's about to be."

"Great," Dean nodded with satisfaction, easing the shotgun off cock and letting the muzzle lean against his shoulder. "One less for us to kill. What about the other one?"

"She's trying to protect him," Jack realised. "That is haemocite," he said, pointing to the misshapen lumps of barely-glowing crystal.

"That's real interesting," Dean intoned, as if listening to a museum announcement as to the toilet arrangements on each floor. "So we shoot her and then make sure he's got one through the heart, too. Job done."

He stepped forward but Jack grabbed his arm, hauling him to a stop. "You don't know what's happening here, trust me," he hissed.

Dean shook him off. "I see two werewolves. I got a shotgun. I think I know what's _about_ to happen."

"Jeez, it's a wonder you two guys aren't already dead," Jack marvelled.

"Who says I ain't, but I ain't stupid, either," Dean grunted. Jack looked back at him swiftly.

"Dean," Sam blurted, drawing Jack's attention too. "I think we should wait a second, here."

"You too?" Dean accused, turning to look at him. Something in Sam's face made him pause. "Ok," he conceded. "What is it?"

"They're… waiting," Sam pointed out, nodding to them. The other three looked over, appraising the female still watching them cautiously. The male was just about managing to breathe, his human clothes in rags, torn up and bloody. The female leant one clawed hand on his chest gently, as if daring her audience to make something of it. Sam's consciensious frown deepened. "He looks hurt, on the edge of death, but she could just leap over here and rip us apart. Why doesn't she?"

"She can't leave the circle," the Doctor said cheerfully, taking one step forward. "They're hiding."

"From what?" Jack asked quickly.

The other three watched the Doctor as he walked right up to the circle of crystals, crouching down to rest his elbows on his knees, looking straight into the eyes of the feral female. He simply watched her for a long moment, waiting for her to move, it seemed. She stared back at him, sniffing the air and letting a low growl seep past her teeth.

"Now then," the Doctor said gently, "what's this all about, eh?"

"Oh great," Dean accused. "Now he thinks he's a wolf whisperer."

"Do you know what haemocite does?" Jack asked him quietly. Dean turned a look on him that was a complete encyclopaedia entry on being out of your depth. Jack nodded. "It masks a blood trail. Not even the galaxy's best blood tracker can find you."

"So what you're saying is, these two are hiding from something trying to track them down," Sam said slowly.

Jack spun to look up at him. "That's right."

"Something _else_ that goes bump in the night?" Dean pressed. "Cos normal werewolf hunters don't go by sense of smell."

"What creature would hunt a werewolf?" Sam asked, his voice quiet but higher than usual due to its sudden and inevitable confusion.

"Another werewolf?" Dean hazarded. "Something that likes its steaks really really rare?"

Jack snorted with amusement for a moment. "A sense of the ridiculous - I like you," he admitted. "I'm thinking it may be something like a Gro-at."

"Grow at what?" Sam said dumbly.

"Never mind," Jack said, waving him off. "You really don't want to know." He looked back at the Doctor.

The female werewolf was staring, watching the man in the brown suit with suspicion - but she seemed a lot calmer than she had been. The two Winchesters and Jack watched in trepidation as the Doctor put one hand out, placing it gently on the wrist of the male lying out on his back. They were surprised to see her shuffle back, out of his way, as if afraid he might touch her next.

"So… who is this dude?" Dean asked Jack quietly.

"Oh Dean," Jack sighed sadly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

They watched as the Doctor moved his hand, reaching up to the male's throat. He placed all of his fingers on it for a moment, then drew them back slowly. His hands went out to the arms of the female, holding her still. She stared into his eyes, and an eerie quiet fell on the gloomy room.

Suddenly she gave a whimper and he let her go, pulling back outside the circle. The four people could do nothing but watch as she bent over the male, laying her head on his chest and wailing.

The Doctor got up quietly, backing away. Jack looked at him.

"He's dying?" he guessed quietly, from the side of his mouth.

"Not long now," the Doctor confirmed, pursing his lips. "She knew."

"One less for us," Dean said, nodding at Sam. His brother's worried frown turned more into a study in sympathetic concern, and Dean shot him a warning glance. "When that one's down, we take her out too. Then we can leave," he asserted.

Sam opened his mouth but it was the Doctor who turned on him.

"Are you in charge here?" he asked cheerfully.

Dean wheeled around to meet his eyes. "This ain't a dictatorship, Doctor Strange. Shooting her when he's already carked it would be-"

"I don't do magic," the Doctor interrupted dismissively. "And you've forgotten one thing, Dean."

"What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Jack's already told you - they're hiding from something. Something big enough and scary enough and with enough teeth or weaponry to kill a lupovariform - a werewolf. Something capable of _tracking_ them through all kinds of places and times, through the smell of their blood alone, and bent on ripping them into small pieces," he said seriously. "What does that tell you?"

"It tells me we should open their little circle of rocks and let it find 'em," Dean said firmly. "Job done. While it's chowing down on what's left of them, we can take _it_ down."

The Doctor pinned him with a look that could have set fire to his jacket if he'd misjudged the angle. Jack, however, put his hands on his hips and looked at his feet.

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

The eldest Winchester looked at him. "What now?"

"We can't just lead it to them and watch it eat them," he reasoned.

"Why not?" Dean shot back. "How many people have they done exactly the same thing to? And they gotta die anyway, and we gotta find this thing - this thing that not even these two nutjobs can explain for us."

The Doctor lifted his chin and his gaze rested on Dean's. He simply glowered back at him, and Jack got the distinct impression battle had been joined.

"Where have you been?" the Doctor asked quietly, intrigued.

"All over the States," Dean replied, his voice a perfect balance of warning and innocence.

"Where have you been that made you like this?" the Doctor added, more clearly. Suddenly his sternness fell away and his chin lowered. His big eyes grew larger and very circular, as his gaze on the Winchester turned into something so understanding, so sympathetic, so burning in its desire to help that Dean was forced to blink and look over at the werewolves hurriedly.

"Somewhere I ain't never going again," Dean managed, and the Doctor's head tilted slightly.

"Something tells me you never really left," he advised softly.

"Changed my mind, Sam," Dean said with an attempt at bravado that was definitely lacking in conviction. "I say we take off and nuke the entire sight from orbit. It's the only way to be sure." He turned and wandered back toward the door, checking the doorjamb surround and then crouching to inspect the floor.

Sam looked at the two men apologetically.

"One of my favourite films," Jack said reassuringly, clapping a hand to Sam's arm. "Look, we need to get ready. Something is coming for these werewolves and it's not going to take long."

"But you said they were hiding behind those haemocite crystals," Sam pointed out quickly.

"They are," the Doctor said, before turning to look slightly up at him. "But they're blue-green."

"And?" Sam pressed.

"They're called _haemocite_ for a reason," the Doctor warned.

"They're supposed to be red? Like blood? Well… are they running out of juice, or something?" Sam guessed.

"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "You're really very bright. For a human," he grinned.

Sam just stared at him, his eyebrows flexing and pushing down toward the bridge of his nose. "So what is this thing that's coming?"

"That's just it," Jack said politely, reaching down for his service revolver and pulling it free of the holster, checking it was loaded. "We don't know."

"Great," Sam sighed. "So we just wait here for something we can't guess at to come through that door?"

"Or the ceiling," the Doctor shrugged. "After all, it's just people that need a bottom surface to walk along."

Sam eyed him as if the man had grown three heads.

"Sam," Dean called, and the three of them looked over. Dean was crouched, grinning at the line over the doorjamb. "Lookie what we got here."

Sam shrugged and Dean put his hand to his knee, pushing himself up to stand. "The door strip, and the doorjamb, and pretty much the entire bracing structure to this door? It's made up of two metals."

"Gold and silver?" Sam asked.

"Heavy and thrash?" Jack put in.

"Iron," Dean grinned, "and silver."

"But that's great," Sam gasped, looking back at the other two. "There's no way half the creatures we know of could get past that door."

The Doctor put his hand up suddenly, making Sam blink at him. "So… if it's made of silver," the Gallifreyan said pointedly, "and these two are 'werewolves'… How did they get in here?"

There was a creak from the ceiling. Four humans and a female werewolf looked up.

Dean tutted in abject derision at the unfairness. "Is it Thursday? It's gotta be Thursday. Only crap like this happens on Thursdays."

"Actually," Jack said, raising the barrel of the revolver to be free of anyone's elbows, "I think it's Friday."

The ceiling creaked again. And then a strip of wood fell away and plummeted into the circle of crystals, scattering them, and the assembled mammals, effortlessly.

.

.


	4. Four

Everything in the room moved at once. Pieces of ceiling plummeted. Humans scrambled. Guns whirled.

Then came the sounds.

Crashing, snarling, spitting, howling. A shriek, a shotgun discharged. A shout and then a horrible, horrible silence.

Nothing moved. Nothing dared make noise.

The Doctor pushed his hands under him where he had fallen. He craned his neck left to survey the room. He found Jack with his back flat against the opposite wall as he crouched, his service revolver lowered by his side. His wide eyes matched what the Doctor very much expected his own to look like. The two Winchesters were against the right hand wall. Dean sagged against it as if barely clinging on to lucidity, Sam's large hand pinning his brother's chest back, keeping him to the wall. Sam was staring in horror at the centre of the beaten-up room.

The Doctor's gaze followed. His eyes took in the large, hairless creature, hissing to itself in victory. Easily seven feet tall and built like an outhouse, its huge scaly feet were planted either side of the male werewolf. The rippling mass of muscle that served as a left arm flexed, the attached clawed hand gripping a wooden staff. It plunged it down, twisting it into the heart of the prone male below. The creature wheezed repeatedly as it carved the pike backwards and forwards in its hollow directly through the male's breastbone.

"Think that's funny, do you?" the Doctor accused with a vehemence of ages.

The creature straightened its spiky back and lashed a tail against the wooden floorboards in surprise. Its head, a flat, almost saurian excuse for a humanoid processing plant, turned and the deep purple eyes fixed on the Gallifreyan.

"Doctor," Jack said quickly. "That is not a Gro-at."

"Yes, thank you Jack," he bit out. His face was a seething sea of age-old fury and untold vengeance, his eyes pinning themselves to the monstrous faint pink animal currently enjoying the movement of the wooden staff in the werewolf's internal organs. "Well? What now?" the Doctor spat.

The animal ripped the pike upward, freeing it of the male corpse with a slurp that made even Sam shiver. The youngest Winchester reached for his jacket pocket as the creature kept its eyes on the Doctor. It turned and grabbed the shoulder of the insensate female, dragging her into its reach.

"No!" the Doctor ordered.

But the powerhouse of ruthless hunting instinct cared little for the smaller animal trying to interrupt it. It simply lifted the unconscious werewolf girl and opened its jaws.

"No! I'm _warning you!_ "

The creature pulled her up. The next instant Sam and Jack jumped in revulsion as they stared, unable to look away; the monster simply hammered its rows of teeth into the girl's neck.

It snapped. It split open. Blood spurted for barely a second. The animal neither saw nor cared. Instead it jerked its head back to sever hers from her body. It fell and lay still. The creature slung the rest of the corpse to the floor before slamming the pike into her chest, twisting it in satisfaction.

Jack scrambled to his feet, hurrying to the Doctor and grabbing his arm. He manhandled him up and then looked at the two Winchesters. "Sam! Your brother ok?" he hissed.

"He took one to the head," Sam called from across the room. "We got to get out of here!"

"No argument there," Jack agreed. He watched the creature enjoying the squishing, carving sounds as it twisted the wooden pike still. It yanked it free and raised the silver tip to watch it drip. "Ok, he's done with the cocktail stick food. Get your shotgun, Sam!" Jack cried.

But Sam's hand came out of his jacket to reveal a small round item, suspiciously like a water-bomb.

"You get the Doctor. I've got Dean," he warned.

The creature, happy to have two piles of werewolf parts on the floorboards, now turned its attention to the four people of decidedly more human appearance. It sent its purple eyes over the two crouched and sat against the wall. Then something made it turn its scaly head to appraise the two men looking back at it, one of them pulling a small silver item from his jacket and clicking it on.

A weird blue light began to pulse and a strange noise caught the creature's attention. It turned and ripped the pike free, taking a step toward the man in the brown suit and his glowing blue tube.

"I don't think he likes sonic screwdrivers," Jack hissed from the side of his mouth.

The creature leaned back for a whole second. The next moment it leapt forward with an angry growl.

Jack hauled the Doctor to one side. The creature slammed into the wall, the boards and wainscoting splintering in testament to its weight. It squirmed and turned.

Sam's arm jerked up and something sailed through the air. "Don't look up! Run!" he bellowed.

The item squished against the monster's slab of muscled chest. It burst in a terrific flash of light, bathing the entire room in blinding, agonising, silent lightning. Jack pushed the Doctor ahead of him and they scrambled to the doorjamb. Sam yanked and hauled, grabbing his brother by the arm and forcing him to put his feet in front of him, more or less in the right order.

As Dean figured out which way was up and realised he had better go with the autopilot function to keep going away from the source of the Bad Noises, he realised something else.

They weren't fighting. They were running.

He was not happy about this. A part of him considered planting his feet in the floor, jerking his brother to a stop, and taking a stand. But then, as the four survivors stumbled out and along passageways that smelt of mould, damp and dead rats, he surmised that, upset as he was at what he was doing, would be a lot more upset should the crashing sound behind them catch up.

He ran.

 

*  

They burst out onto the street, wooden doors flapping and slamming behind them. Jack was first, whipping his head left and right, his service revolver ready. Uncharacteristically, the New York street was quiet; a few people jumped back and eyed the two men that followed Jack: one taller man, supporting the arm of the other over his shoulder as he shuffled them out as fast as he could. The last man, in a brown suit that would have been smart save his battered Converse, followed - except he was backing up, his stern frown still aimed at the doors behind them.

Jack hastily holstered his handgun, turning to the Doctor, ignoring the two Winchesters as Sam leaned his brother against a long, sleek car waiting at the kerb.

"Doctor - what was that thing?" Jack urged. "And why was it killing werewolves?"

"I don't know," the Gallifreyan replied, looking troubled. He pushed past Jack and went directly to Dean, flicking Sam's hands away and lifting one of the sluggish eyelids himself. "Dean?" he asked clearly.

"Get off me, man," Dean said irritably.

"What happened to your head?"

"I fell off a swing, what do you think?" he snapped.

"Did it scratch you?" the Doctor demanded. "Bite you? Break anything? Make any attempt to kill you?"

"What? I don't know," Dean protested, looking much more awake. "I think I got the back of his hand in my face. Next thing I know, I've dropped my shotgun and Sam's dragging me clear."

"Hmm," the Doctor managed, standing back. His hands slid into his pockets. "Well I don't fancy braving that building again, not while it's wandering around, probably looking for us." He twisted to look at the doors behind him. "Which makes things rather difficult. I need the TARDIS."

"You want to see what your screwdriver made of that thing?" Jack hazarded.

"Exactly. I need something I can turn into a DNA analyser with a posineutron analysing GUI," he mused, biting his lower lip in thought.

"Uh.. I have a laptop. Does that help?" Sam offered.

The Doctor shined a blistering grin on him. "Monumentally so," he nodded. "Where is it?"

Sam chucked a thumb over his shoulder at the black car. "In the trunk," he said simply.

"We need to be somewhere else while we do this," Jack said. "It's not exactly private round here."

"Good point." The Doctor turned to the two Americans. "Well then. You're obviously based around here. Got room for two more at yours? As long as you don't mind working together on this?"

Sam let out a small smile. "Looks like we could do with some information."

"Right then," the Doctor cried happily, clapping his hands together and rubbing. " _Allons_ -y. Last one there's making the tea," he declared, as Sam unlocked the passenger door and Dean slid in.

 

*  

Dean sat on the wooden chair under the window, his forehead and elbow on the table and an ice-pack squeezed against the back of his head. Jack leant against the wall, his arms folded, as he watched Sam boot up his laptop and try to explain how much of it he needed operative when the Doctor was done cannibalising the software to bend to his masterplan.

"Sam, trust me, I'll give it back as good as - er - as seen," the Doctor soothed, elbowing him smoothly to one side to pick up the laptop and place it on the table on the opposite side to Dean. The eldest Winchester lifted his head, keeping the ice-pack in place and his elbow on the table.

"What are you doing, anyway?" he grumbled.

The Doctor pulled the long silver screwdriver from his pocket and set it on the table. Dean immediately put his hand out for it but the Gallifreyan turned an innocent if innocuous look on him. Dean's hand shrank back again.

Jack grinned and crossed the cheap motel room to the kettle and assortment of refreshments. "Bad news, Doctor," he said with a smile. "There's no tea."

"No tea?" the man gasped in horror, turning to look at him, perhaps in the hope that Jack was mistaken. "Well, what is there?"

"We have two different kinds of coffee," Jack advised, already picking up the coffee jug from the hotplate in the machine and going into the bathroom.

"Ah well. Needs must, I suppose," the Doctor sighed unhappily. He turned back to the laptop, picking up his screwdriver and flicking it on. A soft blue light and a fuzzy, almost mesmerising buzzing sound had the two Winchesters enthralled.

"What is that?" Sam dared.

"Oh, nothing really. Just a screwdriver. _Well_ , a multi-functional screwdriver. _Well_ , a sonic multi-functional screwdriver. _Well_ , when I say-"

"What does it do?" Dean asked wearily.

"This," the Doctor said happily. He turned it in the direction of the laptop, waving it over the screen and then the side, over the slot for the CD drive. The machine whirred and made strange beeping sounds, before the entire monitor blinked off. It popped straight back on with a bright blue default screen, complete with error message.

Sam rushed up by his side, fighting to see around his shoulder. "What are you-"

"Just hold on, Sam," the Doctor protested, and Sam stood back. The Doctor kept the screwdriver pointed at the laptop and suddenly the Blue Screen Of Death was replaced with a dazzling display of strings and numbers, patterns and lights.

"Trippy," Dean observed. "Can you make it play _Dancing Queen_ , too?"

"If you like," the Doctor said, his entire demeanour rather conspiratorial.

"Don't make my head worse," Dean warned, making the Doctor smile back at the laptop.

"What's it doing?" Sam asked, hearing Jack setting up coffee filters and jugs in the machine behind them.

"It's searching a database of known DNA chains for something resembling the sample I recorded from the xenoform in the basement," the Doctor said, sounding pre-occupied, as he watched the screen intently. He began to lean toward it in thought. "All we need is a species name or some kind of information on it. Hopefully we can use that to find out its habits or at least reasoning behind why it's here and why it's hunting werewolves."

"You're Googling the creature? To see if there's any lore?" Dean pressed. He looked at Sam quickly, making his brother turn and raise innocent eyebrows at him. "Sam, he's like you," Dean asserted. "On crack."

Sam's eyebrows rammed down and frowned for him, before he turned back to watch the laptop. "Anything?" he asked hopefully.

"Give it a minute. It's searching for it system by system."

"You mean filing system?" Sam wondered.

"He means solar system, by galaxy," Jack put in helpfully. Sam turned and looked at him in surprise. "Oh yeah, that thing's not from round here. I mean, I don't know what it is, but it definitely looked more Bahdraheyan than native to this planet."

Sam blinked, looked round at his brother, and shrugged. Dean just waved a finger in a circle by his left temple, making little 'whoo-whoo' whistling noises.

Jack chuckled as he found four paper cups from on top of the small fridge. "Yeah yeah, have your laugh. Did it look human to you?"

" _Oh!_ " the Doctor cried, as if he'd been shot. Everyone jumped in fright. "Found you! Ha- _haa!_ " he crowed, making Dean squeeze his eyes shut in auditory pain. "Got it!"

"Whatever it is," the eldest Winchester said, "I'm sure there's a good doctor somewhere that can cure it with the right medication and-"

"Trelania VI!" the Doctor interrupted, putting his hands, complete with screwdriver, in his hair in triumph. "A nintriannen bilapted trelanian devil!" He spun before anyone had a chance to remark on his gabbled tirade, grabbing Sam's upper arms. "Sam! Your laptop has saved the day!"

"And my ears," Dean muttered, massaging the ice-pack against his hair.

"So much for Windows 7 being crap," Sam grinned, well pleased.

"Well it did the best it could, not being a Mac," the Doctor rattled off, making Sam's smile drop like a lead balloon. The Doctor hauled him out of the way and went straight to Jack. "We need to trap it and send it home."

"Woah woah woah," Dean said loudly, dragging everyone's attention back to him. "Trap it and send it home? What for? To go hunt with its little devil friends? Let's just kill the friggin' thing."

The Doctor turned, his face losing its cheer. "We don't _have_ to kill it, we can send it _home_ ," he said clearly.

"We don't _have_ to send it home, we can _kill_ it," Dean argued. "Look, I don't know how you do things wherever it is you escaped from, Doctor Strange, but round here things called devils that tear up other creatures? They get taken out, and good riddance."

"That's all you humans know how to do, isn't it?" the Doctor shot back. "Kill it, destroy it, set your morals back a few hundred years. Did it ever occur to you that that thing shouldn't be here? That it's just in the wrong place? They don't even have werewolves where it comes from! It thinks it's hunting foxes!"

Dean glared at him, with seventy years of green rage in his eyes. "So what are you gonna do, huh? Huh? Set up a Scooby trap and hope it falls in? Then what? Kriss Angel its ass to the local zoo?"

Jack suppressed a chuckle. "I like him," he nodded to himself.

"No," the Doctor snapped. "We trap it and send it home. When it gets back, it'll have its own court to judge it."

"Wait, what? Hold on here," Sam said, his hands up in a placating gesture completely lost on his brother. "You're saying you're sending it home - to be judged?"

"They're only allowed to just hunt whatever they want," the Doctor said. "Nintriannen bilapted trelanian devils of Trelania VI have a caste system. That was a nintriannen devil - they only hunt foxes."

"And people that stand there watching him," Dean groused. "I saw the way he wasn't exactly keeping to open fox season."

"Well he didn't kill you. And it doesn't change the fact that he's a rogue, breaking his own laws," the Doctor said patiently.

"So you want to take a photo of him killing something that's not a fox and take him to the police station? What then, huh? They put him in prison for mistaking a wolf for a fox?" Dean scoffed.

"Do we want to know what a werefox looks like?" Sam dared, his face a scrunched up ball of worry.

"Not a werefox, just a fox," the Doctor said, eyeing Sam with a winning smile. "But I kind of like that. Anyway, no, uhm, basically, we take it home, let its own people sort it out."

"What happens when its 'people' find its done wrong?" Sam asked quietly.

The Gallifreyan turned and looked at him. "I… don't know," he havered. "Something or other."

"Well what?" Sam pressed. "A slap on the wrist? A driving ban?"

Jack came forward slowly. "What, Doctor?" he asked knowingly.

"Well," he said lightly, pulling at his ear as he thought for a long second. "I can't really be-"

"They'll kill it," Dean said firmly. "Won't they?"

"Not 'kill', exactly," the Doctor began.

Dean stood up slowly, dropping the ice-pack to the table. "Whatever you want to call it, they'll put him down for being a rabid hunter who couldn't stick to just one white meat. So whether we kill him here or they kill him there - wherever 'there' really is - it makes no difference. And at least here he'll die quick and easy." He folded his arms resolutely, eyeing the Doctor. "So you tell me, _Doctor_. Which is better? Which is more _humane_?"

The Gallifreyan eyed the three humans in turn, feeling the monumental pressure of the sagging optimism of both of Sam's heart-wrenching eyebrows. He took a deep breath.

"We're not killing it," he stated clearly.

"Then what do we do to stop it eating werewolves? Which - by the way - is kind of what me and Sam do for a living," Dean shot back.

"Just listen," the Doctor said slowly, looking back at Dean. "This is what we do."


	5. Five

"I'm not happy about this," Dean remarked, making it the fifth time in the space of ten minutes that Sam had had to roll his eyes at the unfairness of listening to his brother complain.

"You know," Sam shot back, his voice highly pitched with annoyance, "you never used to whine like this."

"I never used to chase down seven-foot pink crocodiles that munch on werewolves," he replied, the complete indignation painted over very thinly with a pretence at patience. "Where's Doctor Strange and his Amazing War Ace sidekick?"

"Here I am, boys," came Jack's voice, as he appeared between them. "Did you miss me?" He clapped heavy hands to their shoulders, grinning such a winning smile Dean suddenly wished for a pair of sunglasses.

"You got the stuff?" Dean asked.

Jack let them go to point at his feet. A bucket, carefully lidded and struggling against the right boot that Jack had resting on it, began to seep a tiny, tiny smell that made Dean's face turn the colour of those wobbly bits of chicken liver people throw out for just that reason.

"That's great," he managed, looking up at Sam. "He brought werewolf offal."

"The awful what?" came a voice, and the three of them looked round to find the brown-suited Gallifreyan backing up toward them, spinning out a length of copper wiring from a large spindle as he walked across the landing.

"Uhm, where's that coming from?" Sam asked carefully.

"Your car," the Doctor said, slightly muffled, as he turned to reveal he had his screwdriver in his teeth and a pair of chunky glasses perched on his nose.

"Woah - you been in my car?" Dean protested. Sam's hand shot out to prevent his older brother from closing the gap between he and the grinning stranger.

"Don't worry, it'll be perfectly fine," the Doctor soothed.

"She better be!" Dean growled angrily.

Sam let him go. "Dude, my laptop's back as it was. Give him a break."

" 'Dude' - I love that word," the Doctor said, grinning daffily. "Always makes me think of Shaun Spencer when he's got his persuasive voice on - 'dooood!'" he chuckled. "I always say to him, I say: Shaun, just call me 'mate', but will he listen? No - always with the 'dooood'," he grinned, shaking his head. Then he snapped his fingers. "Which reminds me - I owe him a pineapple."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance that communicated an entire shipload of confusion and weariness before Sam shook his head. "Anyways," he said deliberately, "we just stand here and hope it comes to us? Like a shark to blood?"

"Pretty much," the Doctor nodded.

"And why are we here on the landing again?" Dean asked, somewhat perturbed by the openness of their position.

"Because that smell will reach into every room of the building from here," the Doctor said, bending to snap the copper wiring off the huge, half-empty coil and wrap a length of something that sheened like plastic around the end. He handed it to Jack. "Now make sure he gets jabbed with that exposed end when he appears."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Jack scoffed, eyeing the wire. "How much is going to go through here, anyhow?"

"Enough," the Doctor said cheerfully. "I ramped up the output on the car battery. He'll be knocked out for a bit."

"And then we shoot him?" Dean said, a little too eager for the Gallifreyan's taste.

"Would you even know where to aim?" he said with acerbic clarity.

"Well hey, in my experience the brain is a good place to start," Dean said slowly. "Then the heart. Then the spine at the neck, then maybe the family jewels if you really want to piss him off, then-"

"When we're done, can I take him with me?" Jack interrupted with a knowing smile.

"Ja-ack," the Doctor warned.

"What?" he asked innocently. He looked at Dean. "I could make it worth your while."

"You mean there's gonna be pie?" he asked innocently.

"Dean," Sam tutted, apparently disgusted. "Like you'd do anything for the right kind of pie."

"Would you?" Jack asked suavely.

Dean just blinked, Jack's overt smile and the friendly twinkle to his eye obviously blowing right over his muddy blond hair like wind over a Kansas cornfield.

"Ja-ack," the Doctor warned again, this time more loudly. Sam couldn't help a rather malicious smile, however suppressed, at his brother's cluelessness.

"No harm in asking," Jack shrugged affably.

"Right, well," the Doctor said. "We are _not_ shooting it, Dean. Your world has enough problems without you blowing the pogees out of some hapless nintriannen bilapted trelanian devil just because it got left behind on the wrong planet."

"I still don't see how killing it quick here is worse than letting its own people kill it slowly," Dean argued.

"Ever heard of a Prime Directive?" the Doctor snapped, his voice a little testy. "And we don't know for definite that they _will_ kill it. I know you lot run around shooting and killing things you don't understand, but trust me on this - we do not need to shoot it." He paused, turning to pin Dean with a gaze so fierce in its confidence the elder Winchester nearly stepped back. "Not everything is solved better with guns."

"You see, that's where I agree," Dean nodded quietly. "Sometimes you need a knife."

The Doctor just stared, and after a full ten seconds Dean cleared his throat and looked at his feet, suitably chastised. "Ok," he allowed, looking up at the Time Lord again, "we could try not killing it. Just this once."

"Thank you." The Gallifreyan turned to Jack. "Remember, when it comes pounding down this hallway, you touch him with that and it'll all go swimmingly."

"Define 'swimmingly'," Sam muttered.

" 'Oh god, oh god, we're all going to die'?" Dean said, as the tip of his tongue appeared between his teeth and he nodded with a childish grin. He realised three other people were blinking at him, completely, suddenly, and in every other way, lost. "Wash? From _Firefly_? No?" he havered. The three of them just stared. His face dropped. "Ok then," he added awkwardly, looking at Jack and the length of copper wire in his hands.

"Right," Jack nodded. "Dean, Sam - you should be out of range of this thing. It'll have quite a kick on it."

"What about you?" Sam asked urgently. "If you're still holding that when power goes down it and it earths against this pink devil thing-"

"Oh trust me, I'll be just fine," Jack said darkly.

"Yeah - and why is that again?" Sam demanded.

"Just go, cover us with shotguns. If for some reason this backfires, you take him down," Jack finished.

"What are you, the King of Plan Land?" Dean said.

"For now," Jack nodded. "When he's knocked out on this planet's electric that he can't deal with, and not chowing down on _anything_ , then we'll bitch about who's got Hannibal Smith plan-making rights."

Dean rolled his eyes in a way that made Sam's silent ocular organs proud, before pushing at Sam's shoulder to urge him away. The youngest Winchester nodded to both Jack and the Doctor before shuffling off, herded by his older brother.

The Doctor looked at Jack. "As soon as that thing touches him, let go," he stressed.

"Don't worry. Just go turn on the juice and then find a cubby hole and keep your head down."

"And don't let Dean shoot him."

"Oh, I think he's in sync with how we do things now," he teased, before patting him on the brown-suited shoulder. "Go. The thing might turn up at-"

A thump and a scratch echoed round the weakly-lit landing and the two men immediately looked down the staircase six feet to their left.

"Go," Jack hissed, pushing at his shoulder. The Doctor gave him one last look before shrinking back against the far wall, sliding into a half-open door.

Jack wet his lips, edging slightly toward the stairs to look down. He heard a creak and looked up. Nothing stirred further. The eerie silence was broken by the very faint sound of a shotgun being pumped, somewhere nearby. Jack kept a tight hold on the makeshift insulation on the copper wire, stepping back silently to be against the wall.

A creak. A slight whine of wood being weighed down. He edged away from the top step. Counting seconds, he reached thirty. No further sounds interrupted his counting. The wait was crushing; no movement to alert his ears, no sounds to draw his attention. He reached two hundred.

A hiss distracted him and he lost count. He realised it was more human than devil. Another hiss and then a muffled thump, and he huffed.

"Boys," he called hoarsely, in a perverse attempt to keep his voice down, "can it!"

The door next to the Doctor's creaked open and Dean's head popped out. He surveyed the rickety landing before elbowing someone behind him, emerging from the door to steal across to Jack.

"Get back behind the door!" Jack hissed, frustrated.

"You forgot the lid, smart-ass," Dean shot back, bending and taking the lid from the bucket. A terrible smell assaulted both their noses, but Dean put one arm across his mouth and nose to slide the bucket to the top of the stairs with his boot. He took a deep breath and held onto it before putting his hand down and grasping the back, urging the bucket to tip until a gooey mess of entrails and slowly congealing blood dibbled over the side. It hit the wood of the stairs and he spilled a little more. Apparently satisfied that he had caused the reek of dead werewolves to spew over the entire upper floor and possibly the stairs too, he nodded to Jack before backing up, retreating into the room again.

He pulled the door to, and Jack wrinkled his nose. "You are so not getting pie for that!" he hissed.

A low growl came from the stairs and he froze. Dean's door hardly moved, but Jack picked up the idea of movement from behind it. His head snapped up as he heard a creak. "Oh crap," he managed to himself. Suddenly, standing right next to werewolf-hunter chum with nothing but a length of insulated copper wire in his hand, he felt less like the person setting the trap and more like a red-shirt-wearing extra in a Star Trek episode.

Another creak from above. He eyed the ceiling, heard a thump. So it was with shock and dread that the corner of his eye caught a dark shape from his left - coming up the stairs. A long saurian head appeared before the eyes levelled themselves at him. Shoulders, torso, hundreds of pounds of angry muscle - it emerged steadily, keeping Jack it its sights.

"Hi," he said nervously. "You're not gonna tear me into pieces, are you? It's just that this is a new shirt."

The monster drew in a breath and hissed. It menaced its way up the last few stairs, pausing to eye the bucket of entrails. Its eyes still on Jack, it stooped to sniff it loudly.

"I know what you're thinking," Jack went on confidently. "You're thinking this looks like a trap. Right?"

The creature put one large scaled foot on the landing, edging round him, keeping his clawed hands up in a defensive posture Jack eyed with distrust.

"That's cos it is," he hurled, lunging forward.

The tall pink monster lurched back, spitting in anger. The copper wire missed by several inches. Just as Jack was regrouping there was a slam of wood. He saw something sail through the air. It revealed itself to be a shotgun stock as it hammered into the side of the creature's head.

It was shoved forwards. Its arm went out behind it and Dean was propelled across the landing. Jack saw the creature was distracted. He stretched. The wire went into its skin.

A horrible crackling, fizzing sound buzzed through the air. Jack felt it grab at his fingers. He let go. The animal gave a yelp as a huge flash and boom of power reverberated round the landing. Jack realised, too late, that he was flying backwards through the air. He whammed into the wall and fell in a heap.

The creature was howling in pain and staggering to remain upright in a way that would have made Ray Harryhausen proud. It spun in rage and its purple eyes fastened on the smaller man approaching him - the Doctor. Its hands went out, determined to shred the much smaller creature in its agony.

Sam launched himself from the doorjamb. His arms wrapped around the creature's shoulders, sending them both to the landing floor. Livid and injured, the animal was in no mood for a mere two hundred pounds of Sam Winchester. It flicked him off toward the stairs.

Rolling, grabbed desperately, Sam managed to stop himself from careening over the edge. He hauled himself to his hands and knees, spying Dean's fallen shotgun - just beyond the creature that was already climbing laboriously to its feet. A duck and a scrabble and Sam was through the monster's knees so fast it had trouble focusing on his boots as they slewed under it.

It stumbled backward, attempting to somehow stomp the impertinent Winchester, unaware of most of the things currently happening around it. Dean, however, was well aware of four things: how long it had taken him to get back up after his shotgun-battering attempt, the monster's apparent wooziness, its proximity to his brother still scrambling out of the way, and the top of the stairs. He snatched up the fallen copper wire by the insulation and pushed himself off the wall at a run. The creature turned but Dean ducked a swipe from its arm by collapsing to one knee and hip, as if he were T J Hooker himself sliding over the bonnet of a car. The consequent slide got his hand and the wire in contact with the creature's leg. The monster jerked and cried out. It staggered back - into Dean's legs.

The most spectacular moment of arm pin-wheeling in all the worlds could not save it from tripping and falling. It roared and protested the unfairness of it all as it rolled head over clawed heels down the stairs in a very painful, possibly bone-breaking walloping journey that took it on a direct collision course with the stanchion at the bottom.

Its superb snowballing roll came to an abrupt end with a sickening crack. It relaxed and lay still, sprawled on the wooden floor.

Dean, still breathing hard but now pushing himself to sit on the top step, peered down cautiously. He looked round at Jack, who was similarly familiarising himself with the difference between up and down. Dean put out a pointy finger of vindication to indicate the insensate creature, and Jack had to admit he had only before seen Dean's victorious jaw-jut on the face of superheroes.

"That right there?" Dean said, still aiming his finger at the stationary creature. " _That's_ how we roll in Plan Land."


	6. Six

"What do we do with it now?" Sam said hoarsely. "It could wake up at any moment."

"It cracked into that post pretty hard, dude," Dean observed. "Maybe we killed it."

The Doctor appeared around Dean's side, skipping down the stairs as if running for a passing ice-cream truck. "I'll just go check," he said cheerfully.

"Woah woah woah - are you nuts?" Dean began, but the gangly Time Lord was already halfway down the stairs and all the way oblivious.

He bounced to the floorboards, approaching the insensate creature and crouching next to it. "He seems ok," he announced, tilting his head in an effort to look over the animal's face more carefully.

Jack was on his feet, his hands on his hips, looking down the steps. "That's great. I'm with Sam - we need to get him restrained before he wakes up and demands to know why we we're all stood round watching him."

The Doctor straightened, his hands sliding into his pockets. He looked down at the devil before looking up the steps at Dean. "Your car…" he said slowly.

"Ho, wait a minute!" Dean protested, a hand out in indignation. "If you think you're putting that thing in my car, you've got another-"

"We don't have a lot of time," Jack interrupted. "And we can't leave it tied to a post in the basement of a building that the police could walk into at any time."

"Let's get it secured first. We need to restrain it," Sam said, looking down the stairs.

Dean huffed through his nose so loudly Sam was sure he'd been practising. "Fine - but you three owe me one," Dean grumped.

Jack opened his mouth, thought better of letting anything spill out as the Doctor glared at him, and instead opted to close it with a private smile.

"What have we got to tie him up with?" Dean asked.

"Hang on," the Doctor said affably, putting his hand in his trouser pocket and producing a mobile phone. He handed it to Dean. "Hold that for me a second," he said, pre-occupied. His hand went back into the pocket and out came a rubber mouse. Followed by a baseball cap. Then a pair of 3D glasses. And then a banana. He piled the items up in Dean's hands until another mobile phone came out. "Oop - don't lose that one, it belongs to Martha Jones," he said quickly.

"Ok, stupid question - how does all this come out of your one pocket?" Dean marvelled, as a PSP, a set of precision screwdrivers and an empty daiquiri glass joined the pile of miscellania in the eldest Winchester's now cradling forearms.

"Transcendental pockets," the Doctor beamed ebulliently. "Bigger on the inside."

"Whatever," Dean sighed, flicking a weary look at his brother.

Sam's face erupted in a sudden smile. "We should get the trunk of the Impala rigged the same."

"Oh!" the Time Lord crowed suddenly, making everyone else jump. "Here we go!" He pulled a long length of rope-like material from his pocket, holding it up at Jack. "Right then - get to it, boys."

Jack took the rope from him as the Doctor plucked his belongings back from Dean, unable to be phased in any way by the much younger man's disbelief as everything disappeared back into his single pocket. Jack was already threading the rope through his hands, finding the ends, as Sam went to start down the stairs.

"Oh, Sam?" the Doctor said innocently. "I think I need your help - and your laptop again. Dean can help Jack with the nintriannen bilapted trelanian devil."

"Oh can he?" Dean began, but Sam glowered at him. Dean huffed and handed back the last of the mobile phones, shaking his head as he made his way down the steps. He looked at Jack before taking the end of the rope. "Ok, let's truss this turkey. He moves a single muscle, and you shoot him. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Jack nodded seriously, pulling his service revolver from the holster on his hip. Dean nodded and looked down at the monster, wondering just where to begin.

Sam looked at the Gallifreyan next to him. "So what are we doing now?"

"Now," the Doctor said thoughtfully, "we let the GI Joes here get the trelanian devil into Dean's car. Meanwhile, _we_ find the best location for someone to pick him up."

"Someone?" Sam prompted.

"Someone."

"Who someone?" Sam asked.

"Someone who isn't us," the Doctor beamed. "Well, _allons_ -y." He turned and began to walk off. Sam looked down the steps at his brother and Jack, before hurrying after the Doctor.

* The New York street was party to many things that night; a pair of drunken dates holding each other up as they shimmied down the pavement, a girl walking her eager Rottweiler, two old friends sharing the last cigarette from a Marlboro softpack, and two ostensibly young men manhandling a large, suspiciously heavy bipedal blanket into the boot of a sleek black vehicle.

Dean closed the lid quickly, pulling his jacket straight and nodding his thanks to Jack. He took a step back, looking over to see Sam opening up the driver's door by the pavement.

"Mr Chompy's all squared away," Dean pointed out. "Can we find out where we're dumping him now?"

"Patience, Dean," the Doctor said quickly, waving a hand to the car. "I think we should get away from this place, lest the local coppers come investigating noises people might have reported."

"In this town?" Dean snorted. "They're more likely to lock their windows and leave a baseball bat by the door."

"Charming," the Doctor observed. "Let's get back to your little motel room."

The four of them piled into the Impala and while Dean's eyes kept darting between the road and the rear view mirror, and, by extension, the boot lid, Sam started up the laptop in the passenger seat.

"Well, this is a nice car," the Doctor said suddenly, looking around the car interior. "Someone's looked after her."

"She's all we've got," Dean admitted. "She's home."

"I know what you mean," the Time Lord allowed, apparently to himself.

The rest of the journey was silent, punctuated only by tiny squeaks and rattles as the car herself nervously got on with the job of getting them to the motel while bravely pretending nothing about the load in the boot was freaking her out. By the time they reached the quiet car park outside the motel, the Doctor was already scratching at his temple and 'hmm'ing to himself.

The car parked, the four of them out in the chilly night air, Dean leaned on the roof and looked across it to the thin man in the slightly scruffy brown suit. "What now, Doctor Strange?" he asked.

"Sam - I need you with me. Jack - you'll need to help Dean get this nintriannen bilapted trelanian devil to a place where he can be detected from the stratosphere."

"What about you?" Jack asked quickly.

"I'll be telling you where it is - just as soon as Sam and I have discovered where that should be. For now - head for high ground."

"Right," Jack allowed, nodding to Dean. The eldest Winchester rolled his eyes and opened the car door again, sliding into the seat.

Sam leaned in, grabbed up his laptop bag, and waved a hand to Jack and the front passenger door. He folded his coat around him and slid in, winking his thanks before hauling the door shut with a squeak.

The Doctor and Sam watched as the black car pulled out of the car park slowly, turning toward the main road once again. At last the Gallifreyan looked at Sam.

"So then," he said cheerfully, "let's set your quaint computer up and see what we can see, eh?"

Sam turned and led him up the steps of the motel to the second floor, and their room beyond.

 

*  

"This is a real beauty - where'd you get it?" Jack asked, sweeping an appreciative hand over the dashboard of the Impala in front of him.

"Used to be my dad's," Dean grunted. "He died. She's mine now."

"Well. Nice," Jack said awkwardly.

"Yeah. She is. All I got, too. So don't go poking places you ain't welcome."

"Does that go for you as well?" Jack asked slyly.

"Dude," Dean scoffed, "that goes double for me. You're not my type." Jack opened his mouth but Dean pulled his right hand from the steering wheel, waving it at him. "But you seem like a nice guy. Go out and find some chick - guy - whatever - that's worth it," he added.

"You don't think you're worth it?"

"I'm busy."

Jack raised his eyebrows, choosing to lend his attention to the passenger window. Eventually he looked back at Dean. "It's been an interesting day so far. I think you're not as worthless as you think."

"See?" Dean said, his face a roadmap where all destinations ended up in bravado. "Some chick- guy - whatever - is missing out on all your best lines."

Jack smiled. "Whatever. When you've learned to be less biased, I'll still be around somewhere."

"Oh yeah? Bring your sister, I'll buy you a drink."

"Three of us together?" Jack dared.

"Don't push it," Dean said curtly. But then he grinned, making Jack guffaw.

 

*  

The Doctor set the whirring laptop on the wooden table under the window, pulling the sonic screwdriver from his trouser pocket. Sam watched him for a moment.

"So… You say this thing isn't from this planet," he ventured quietly.

"He certainly is not," the Doctor agreed.

"Right. You know how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Oh, Sam," the Time Lord replied knowingly. "Do you ever tell people you hunt werewolves and they tell you it sounds crazy?"

"I get it," Sam nodded. "And Jack… Why did you think it'd be ok to leave him in a situation where he could die? I'm guessing you two are supposed to be friends."

"Kind of," the Doctor allowed, pulling at his ear with his free hand. "Most of the time." He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, feeling inside his jacket pocket. He pulled out a pair of glasses. "I knew he wouldn't die," he added dismissively. "Well, not permanently."

Sam opened his mouth, decided he didn't want to ask after all, and just shook his head. "How do we do this? How do we get him 'home'?"

"He's already giving off chronoton radiation, presumably from his trip here in the first place. All we have to do is find a place where that would be really conspicuous to passing ships that can detect nintriannen bilapted trelanian devils."

"You're saying this creature is radioactive? And a passing boat can pick it up?" Sam blurted. "Is it safe? Are we?"

"Ships," the Time Lord corrected. "And yes, we are."

"And what happens when this ship knows where he is?"

"They'll be intrigued," the Doctor said, grinning daffily in a way that did little to reassure Sam of much of anything.

"And then?"

"Then they'll find he's kind of tethered to them. They'll have to take him with them."

"Tethered?" Sam pressed. "In a bluetooth-earpiece-to-Blackberry kind of way?"

"Exactly!" the Doctor cried gleefully. "Got it in one."

"But I thought we were sending him home?"

"When they see what they've snagged, they'll want to get him home as fast as they can, don't you worry about that," the Doctor said. "Besides, I need a few bits and pieces before my transport can go anywhere near his system. The best I can manage right now is a short hop across a single planet."

"Right," Sam havered, prepared to completely ignore that last remark and instead concentrate on the matter at hand. "So what do I do?"

"You need to open up your quaint little laptop and get it tethered to the TARDIS first. Then we'll work out how to find background chronoton radiation levels."

"Right," Sam said, rather uncertainly, but he was already working out which level at which the curious blue-lighted screwdriver needed to be working, and getting ready to press the button on the side.

The Doctor folded his arms, his face a knowing smile, as he watched the tall young man wait for his say-so. He nodded, and Sam pointed the screwdriver at the Windows machine.

"This is kinda fun," Sam admitted, watching the laptop leap from Windows 7 into the most amazing display of streaking blue and purple skeins.

"It is, isn't it?" the Time Lord observed.

Sam flicked off the screwdriver and handed it back, putting his fingers to the trackpad on the laptop and manipulating the strange patterns onscreen by instinct alone. The Doctor watched, intrigued and impressed, as Sam straightened and looked at him.

"Is this other Wi-Fi signal thing coming from the tardy - uhm - thing?"

"Yep," the Gallifreyan grinned.

"Ok then." He peered at the screen until he looked up again. "Right. I think we're tethered."

"Marvellous," the Doctor gushed, bending to peer at it too. "I might just have you come and have a look at a Pelluvian data-transfer hub someone left me. Works a lot like one of your Blackberry things. Never did get the hang of Blackberries," he mused, as he manipulated the information that, out of the two of them, only a Gallifreyan could read. "Oh, this is going to be easy," he gushed suddenly, with a cheerful grin.

"Why's that?" Sam asked warily.

"Because they only need to get him to the nearest hill - this place is not exactly awash with chronoton radiation. He'll be easy to find."

"I wish you wouldn't say 'easy'," Sam sighed.

 

*  

Dean's phone began to blare, Jack looking around the inside of the Impala for it. He noticed it flashing and disco-dancing to its own beat in the centre console and snatched it up. "Zeppelin, eh?" he said approvingly. Dean waved a finger at it and Jack snapped it open. "Hello? Somebody need two hot guys in a sweet ride? You do? What a coincidence," he grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes but then put them back to the road.

"Right," Jack added down the phone. "So just the nearest hill? And we have to be on top of it?" He paused. "Got it. Easy." He snapped the phone closed and nodded at Dean. "Up the hill, park it."

Dean studied the road ahead, leaning forward to survey the coming landscape. "One question," he said slowly. "Where's the hill supposed to be?"

Jack opened his side window, sticking his head out to see better.

A huge thump and a _chink_ echoed round the car. The rear end shivered. Dean's hands gripped desperately at the steering wheel, keeping the car from wobbling too far either side.

"Great!" he groused. "The son of a bitch is waking up already?"

"Seems that way," Jack allowed. Another bang, another slight weaving of the Impala. "Uhm - does she go any faster?"

"Find me a hill, War Ace," Dean shot back. "Make it quick."

He put his foot down.


	7. Seven

Sam cut the call on his phone, pocketing the mobile and looking at the Doctor. "Right. They're heading for a hill. What do we do?"

"We use your laptop to track anyone who might be passing by this system and wave a little chronoton radiation flag," he replied easily.

"How the hell do we do that?"

"I'll show you," the Doctor beamed, putting his hand out for the screwdriver.

 

*  

The Impala swerved as Dean's boot crushed the accelerator.

"We've still got time - it'll take him a few minutes to punch his way out of the metal," Jack urged.

"I'm not letting it make holes in my car!" Dean shot back. "We get to the hill and pop the trunk!"

"And run the risk of him getting away? What if he's not on top of the hill when the only people who can take him away from here show up? What then?"

"It's not digging its way outta my car!" Dean raged. "I look after her - rebuilt her, kept her going - and she's kept _us_ going all these years! So bite me, War Ace, we ain't letting it rip any goddamn holes in her, or I swear you'll be next!"

Jack fumed but stuck his head back out of the window. "There!" he shouted. "Take the off ramp - we need to be up there!"

Dean ducked slightly to look further afield than the road ahead. He checked his mirrors and yanked the wheel, sending the classic close enough to the gravel by the road to send chips up into the encroaching scrub.

She roared up the incline, Dean stamping on the accelerator. He sent her round the bend with nothing but hope and Pirelli to keep them on the tarmac. Jack pulled his head back into the car as it shimmied and slid slightly. A knock and a metallic clang rang out. Dean glanced up into the rear view mirror to see the boot of the car flying open.

"Son of a bitch!" he railed, keeping the car in a straight line as it tore up the hill.

 

*  

The Doctor straightened up from the laptop, nodding happily. "That should do it. Once he's in range, there are actually two ships that could quite easily find themselves tethered to him."

"Two?" Sam prompted. "You mean two… spaceships?" he asked, as if the word were stuck under a great deal of disbelief and was having a hard time battling its way out of a mouth that no more wanted to let it out than it did a big ol' gob of spit.

"What else?" the Doctor smiled genially. "There are always two or three ships around your solar system. You just can't pick them up with your equipment."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Sam said flatly.

"Whatever helps you sleep," the Doctor sighed. "Better check on your brother and Jack."

"Yeah," Sam said quickly, lifting his phone and pressing the redial button.

 

*  

The phone blared again. Jack was too busy gripping the side of the roof through his open window, Dean's knuckles striped red and white on the steering wheel. He fought to keep the Impala steady as she leapt up the hill with all of her available horsepower. The phone went unanswered.

The back of the car swayed and a loud cry of anger made Jack whip his head over the seat to look back. "Uhm, Dean?" he managed. "Brake."

"What the-!"

"Brake!" Jack shouted.

Dean slammed his boot on the requisite pedal and the car skidded in protest, wobbling from side to side. There was a dull thud and a roar.

"Now drive!" Jack yelled.

Dean's weight hammered on the accelerator. The car again sprang forwards. "What the hell, man!" Dean called, his eyes glued to the hill and the top just meters away.

"You stunned it! It's not trying to crawl out of the trunk any more!" Jack explained.

"Great!" He pulled slightly on the wheel, his foot going back to the brake in a more civilised fashion, as Jack realised the hill seemed to have evened out.

He looked back to the front windscreen. "We're here?"

"We're here," Dean confirmed, affecting the parking brake and ripping the keys from the ignition. He flew out of the driver's door as Jack scrambled out of the other side. He heard a snarl and a thump and raced around the car.

"What are you doing?" he spluttered, completely, suddenly, and in every other way, knocked for six.

Dean drew back the shotgun and walloped the woozy creature around the head one more time for good measure. "Well we can't have it getting lost, can we?" he accused. "And it ain't scratching up my car!"

Jack shook his head, unable to put anything into words, as Dean used the end of the shotgun to heave the confused monster back into the boot of the car. He slammed the lid down, tossed the gun on top, and then put his hands to it, throwing himself up and sitting on the lid with an air of satisfaction.

Jack stared at him, and finally Dean turned his head to look. "What?"

"Nothing," Jack grinned, shaking his head. He looked up and round the side of the car as they heard Dean's phone going again. He hurried round and reached in through the window, snatching it up and then bringing it back, throwing it to the Winchester on the boot lid.

Dean opened it up. "Yeah'ello?"

"Dean - it's me," Sam gabbled.

"No, really?" Dean said sarcastically. He could imagine his brother's eye-roll from there. "Don't sweat it - we got it."

"Where is it?" Sam demanded.

"Under my ass," Dean admitted. He blinked and caught the amusement on Jack's face. "It's trapped in the trunk," he added more clearly.

"Great," Sam rattled off. "The Doctor and I may have found a way to get rid of him. Just - er - sit tight," he managed.

"Will do." Dean snapped the phone shut and looked at Jack.

"You two are pretty good at this," he nodded.

"We try."

"No, I mean… adapting to all this crazy shit, just getting on with it." He paused. "Lots of people freak out."

"We do too. Just in different ways," Dean allowed, looking back down at the phone in his hand.

Jack appraised him, suddenly finding him a lot older on the inside than he had suspected. "Yeah," he allowed, putting his hands on his hips and turning in a circle to look around the hill. "So… did Sam say what we're supposed to be doing, here?"

"He said to wait."

"Right." Jack looked back at the boot lid. "Know any good jokes?"

 

*  

"Bingo!" the Doctor cried, making Sam jump. "Got one!"

"A ship?" Sam dared.

"A ship!" the Doctor crowed victoriously. "All we have to do…" He bent closer to the crazy patterns on the laptop screen, bringing the screwdriver to bear. "There. They'll find our devil friend in a few minutes, and then this will all be over."

"Please," Sam said quickly, "don't say it'll be 'easy'."

The Doctor smiled. "You know what?" he said cheerfully. "I like you. A bit pessimistic, but there's still that little spark of hope, isn't there?"

Sam nodded uneasily. "Sometimes."

The Doctor grinned.

 

*  

"So the first hooker turns to the second and says 'he never mentioned Twinkies'," Dean said with a devilish grin.

Jack almost exploded with laughter, looking up at the stars and letting it all out. Dean chuckled to himself as he shook his head.

"Ok, I got one," Jack said. "There's this penguin, right? And he's on holiday in Arizona in this rental car. The car breaks down, so he leaves it at a garage and goes next door for an ice-cream. He can't pick up the spoon, right, so he uses his flippers, and he gets ice-cream all round his beak. He goes back to the garage to pick up the car, and the man says to him-"

There was a thump and a moan. Dean looked down at the boot lid next to him. "Uh-oh," he managed. Another thump, another moan - this time more of a growl.

"Is he waking up?"

"Sounds like it." He shuffled off the lid quickly, landing on his feet. He picked up the shotgun from the boot. "What do we do now?"

Jack gasped and looked up quickly. He swallowed. "Woah," he managed. "That is a really big ship."

Dean went to look up but the boot lid jumped. He took a step back. "What ship?" he demanded, his shotgun ready to beat at anything that popped out of the back of the car.

"Look up," Jack grinned, even as he studied the beautiful pattern of dark blues and purples on the underside of the mammoth vessel hanging in the sky above them on an otherwise quiet night.

" _You_ look up - this thing's about to-" Dean sprang back, grabbing Jack's arm and yanking him clear, as the boot lid shot open.

The nintriannen bilapted trelanian devil heaved itself up, its triangular head coming out of the space full of weapons. It pushed its nose over the top as it clawed itself to a sitting position. It appeared to be getting its bearings.

"Right - move," Jack said.

He shoved at Dean's arm and the Winchester was propelled a few feet away. His right boot stumbled on the dry, grassy earth and he had to cycle it round to stop himself toppling backwards. He looked over his shoulder to find a forty-five degree incline just waiting for him to toboggan down it arse-first, intended or otherwise.

"Woah," he managed. He looked at Jack, opening his mouth in a warning, but the other man was torn between looking up and checking the status of the pink monster. Dean began to look up. The devil hoiked itself up and put a large foot out of the boot and his eyes snapped back to it. He rushed forwards, his shotgun up ready to belt the thing around the head again.

Jack grabbed his arm and hauled him to a stop. "Wait," he hissed.

" _You_ wait! One more minute and he'll be biting our heads off!"

"No, he won't," Jack urged. "Just wait - any… second… now…"

The devil looked up and drew in a deep breath, letting out a howl of anguish.

"Now, people," Jack urged. "Now!"

"What 'now'?" Dean asked, again craning his neck to look up. But the devil suddenly leapt out of the car and bayed at them both in anger.

Jack pulled on Dean's sleeve and began to creep backwards. Dean shook his arm free, raising the shotgun.

"No!" Jack called, looking up.

Dean was surprised to see everything starting to turn blue. And sparkly. And… weird. He looked from the sight of the pink monster appearing for all the world to be very confused, and then his eyes went to his own free hand, watching the blue lights and tiny green diamond-shaped patterns play over his skin.

"Woah," he managed. "Now _that's_ trippy."

Jack grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled. Dean stumbled backwards. He had time to realise the night was not blue after all. Neither was the ground solid beneath his feet. His arms flailed, his hand snatched at Jack's coat for purchase, but he just knew he was fighting a losing battle against gravity.

The two men went over backwards. Had the ground been flat, that would have been the end of it. But no.

They tumbled head over heels, boots over coats, shotguns over elbows, picking up speed on their tremendous jaunt down the hillside. Grass was spilled in all directions, grunts and indecipherable words emanated from Jack Harkness.

Dean was more focused in his anger. "Son - _oof_ \- of - a - _oof _\- bitch!" was all that could be heard as he careened down the grassy gradient. They came to a stop at the bottom, finding themselves twenty feet apart and tangled in all kinds of green and brown matter.__

Jack squirmed round and looked up quickly, spotting the huge spaceship turning slightly as it hung over the hill. He grinned, simply staring at the amazing sight, as it spun in place. It began to raise, faster and faster, until the clouds drew together and it was lost to the upper atmosphere of planet Earth. Jack took a deep breath, leaning back into the dry grass and just watching the dark sky. He looked over at Dean. "You ok?"

"I think," Dean managed, struggling to put his hands under him and roll onto his back, "I'm lucky I didn't break anything."

Jack coughed out a laugh. "Well, our friend's hitched a ride. He's winging his way to the next galaxy."

"Winging a what to a who?" Dean groaned, pressing a hand to his chest as he squirmed.

"He's gone. We're done here," Jack nodded, pushing himself to sit up. He looked all the way back up the hill. Then he twisted, looking back at the road, barely fifty feet from his position. "Oh. Look where we are."

Dean heaved himself onto his side, craning his neck back to look across. "I've said it before and I'll say it again," he panted. "Son of a bitch."

Jack chuckled. "Yeah." He climbed to his feet laboriously. "So. Fancy a walk across two blocks, back to the creepy house where it all started? Or are we hiking up the hill to get your car back first?"

Dean let his head fall to the grass. "House," he grumped. "I ain't walking up any hills tonight." Just then the heavens opened, and they felt cold water pattering down. A huge glob went into Dean's eye. "Perfect."

"Let's get out of here," Jack said with a rueful smile. He put his hand out.

Dean, shuffling to sit up, just looked at it for a long moment. Then he put his hand out and they grasped wrists, hauling the Winchester to his feet. He nodded his thanks, turning to find the shotgun just a few feet away from his boots.

"This way," Jack said, clapping him on the back in a way that made him cough, before he turned and walked off.

Dean pulled out his phone. "Sam?" he asked when the line had clicked. "We're not far from the creepy Scooby Doo house, it's raining and my car's up the hill, so get your ass back to the beginning. We're done."

 

*  

Jack came down the stairs first, Dean trudging along behind, and they found themselves back on the landing. Sam and Doctor were already there, so apparently engrossed in their conversation that they didn't hear the others arrive.

"But that's not right," Sam was saying, his voice pitched high in a way he reserved for last-ditch puppy eyes efforts.

"It is," the Doctor said calmly. "I've tried it every other way, and believe me, in the end, sometimes you just have to let things go their own way and just stand by with towels. Sometimes interfering is the opposite of helping."

"But-"

"Sam," the Time Lord said affectionately, putting a hand out and patting his shoulder. "I know. But it's the way things are. And maybe changing that is interfering. Eh?"

"You two done arguing about existential whatevers?" Dean said gruffly, and the two of them turned to look at him.

"I think so," the Doctor said brightly. Then his smile faded. "Blimey, you look a bit worse for wear." He looked the eldest Winchester up and down, taking in rain on his jacket, the grass stains, the smears of mud, the dishevelled hair and weary eyes. He looked at Jack. "You look like you stood and watched."

"Some habits you just can't break," Jack joked, and the Doctor tutted rather disapprovingly. "But at least I didn't die this time," he added with a wide grin.

" _This time?_ " Sam prompted.

Jack waved a hand at him, but Sam's hands went to his hips in condemnation of the man's silence.

"Really, Sammy," Dean said with a polite smile, "leave it. Everyone here's probably died at least once, huh?"

Jack risked a look at the Doctor before they cleared their throats and looked at their feet.

Sam took a step back. A lame smile on his face attempted to cover the discomfort. It was not doing a good job. "Heh," he managed.

"Yeah," Dean said meaningfully.

"Yeah," Jack agreed hastily.

"Yep," the Doctor nodded, popping the 'p'.

There was an entire minute of awkward foot-shuffling and intense stares that went anywhere but anyone else's eyes.

"Ok then!" Dean said cheerfully, abruptly enough to startle everyone else. "What next?"

"Did you see the ship off?" the Doctor asked the two of them.

"Ship? What ship?" Dean protested.

"Yeah. Looked like a… maybe a Slorathian scouting vessel. Not sure though," Jack nodded.

"Haven't seen one of those in… ooh, not since the twenty-third century," the Doctor mused, making the Winchesters exchange a wary glance across the room.

"There wasn't any ship," Dean said firmly. "I certainly didn't see one."

"That's because you were doing your Scully-misses-the-big-reveal thing," Jack said. "It's ok. A tumble like that would shake anyone."

"Hey," Dean began angrily, but Sam waved a hand at him.

"It's gone, right? The pink creature?" he pressed.

"Seems that way," Dean allowed.

"Then I don't care how or why. I'm just glad it's gone," Sam said meaningfully.

"Yeah," Dean allowed.

"Well them, time we were off," the Doctor said. "I think we could try Atlanta. They should have the parts we need."

"I'm all for Atlanta," Jack grinned. "These two will have to hike up that lonely hill for their car, though - and in the rain."

The Doctor thrust his hands deep into his brown trouser pockets, swishing from side to side gently as his large eyes took in the two brothers. "I could give you a lift back to your car, if you want?" he offered, with just the tiniest bit of hope.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, conveying exactly how much naked curiosity Sam was harbouring, and how much thought Dean was giving to throwing everything to Hell and simply agreeing.

"Just one lift, one trip," the Doctor shrugged.

"Just one?" Jack asked knowingly.

"What do you think - are they TARDIS material?" the Doctor teased his friend with a daffy grin.

"Oh, Doctor," he grinned, then looked at the two men. "He," he said firmly, pointing at Sam, "is definitely TARDIS material." He moved his finger to point at Dean, who looked back at him with slight indignation. "But _he_ is definitely Torchwood material."

"Problem there," the Doctor mused. "I get the feeling these two come as a pair or not at all."

"Oh man, I would love to test that theory," Jack breathed.

Dean put a hand up quickly. "Woah woah woah," he protested. "Me and Sam are going home - to my car. This has been one crazy-assed trip, and you," he said to the Doctor, "are more than a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal." He looked at Jack. "I have no idea what you're short of, but I'll bet it's expensive at any institution you want to name."

Jack chuckled. "Oh Doctor, we can't let these two fine young men walk all the way back to their car - which is a sweet ride, by the way," he winked at Dean. "Do you honestly want to go all the way back there in the rain?"

Sam levered his eyebrows at him, with an air of the promise of cookies - or at least warm, dry transport. Dean's shoulders sagged. "Fine. We'll take a lift."

"That's settled then!" the Doctor cried cheerfully, already turning away. " _Allons_ -y! The last one in is making the tea. Sorry boys, I don't think I've got any coffee on board."

He turned and walked briskly through the house, the three of them following lest they get lost. Swept up in his slipstream, then went down the corridor that had been their first meeting place, as the Doctor opened the wooden door and poked his head inside.

"Oh, lovely - she's still here," he said, pushing the door wide and producing a key from his trouser pocket. The others followed as he went to a very tall blue door, unlocking and pushing it open so quickly Sam barely had a chance to put his hand out to Dean's shoulder. His brother looked back at him.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "He said one trip, right? Back to the car? I don't know about you, but I ain't walking in the pissing rain."

"I know, but…" Sam shrugged. "It's been weird. Spaceships, aliens… Don't you think?"

"Hey," Dean said firmly. "I didn't see any alien, and I sure as hell didn't see any spaceships. Now stop freaking me out and let's go." They looked at the blue door, slightly ajar, until Jack's head popped out of it.

"Well come on then, ladies, get a move on," he grinned.

"Wonder where the Doctor's car is," Sam muttered.

"My first guess would be: behind the big blue door. Funny," Dean added, tilting his head as he put his hand to the wood, "it says 'police' at the top."

"Maybe he's well connected," Sam mused.

"Well whatever. Just a few minutes and we'll be back to the Impala. Home, sweet home," Dean sighed, pushing his way into the TARDIS, with Sam in hot pursuit.

 

**FIN**

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!
> 
> Oh, and Jack's penguin joke (in case you've lived under a rock and have genuinely never heard this ancient one before) ends thus: The penguin tries to wipe the ice-cream off his face but just smears it and makes it worse. He asks the mechanic what's wrong with the car. The mechanic looks at the penguin and says 'looks like you've blown a seal', and the penguin says… (Wait for it…) 'No, I've just been eating ice-cream'. Ba-doom-doom-tsshh!
> 
> Thanks for reading. There's the small matter of a one-off A Team (series) fic to post - but I will be back with more SPN as soon as I can.


End file.
